


Two Sisters - Prompts & Cutting Room Floor

by vesta02



Series: Two Sisters AU [4]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Siblings AU, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesta02/pseuds/vesta02
Summary: Goes along with Two Halves of a Whole and includes prompts taken from Tumblr and bits off the cutting room floor from the main fic.
Relationships: Detective/Adam du Mortain, Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Female Detective/Ava du Mortain, Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: Two Sisters AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026141
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Prompt: Breeze

There was no hiding the jaw-cracking yawn that escaped as Laurel staggered into the warehouse. Another sleepless night had left her wanting for energy or a really, _really_ strong cup of coffee. A stiff breeze was almost all it would take to knock her over.

So, of course, spotting Unit Bravo looking fresh and dewy, she couldn’t help but swear aloud. “Christ in a handbasket, I hate _all_ of you,” she grumbled, flopping into an open chair in the conference room. Laurel paused, swearing she almost caught the barest _flicker_ of concern sliding across Adam’s face, but it was gone before she could get a harder look at it.

“And you’re mean before your coffee,” Mason drawled.

“Only for you guys,” Laurel could have wept when Felix passed her a cup filled to the brim with black coffee. It was a bit too full to actually pick up, but the kid got points for trying. “I’ll finish this and we can go over the latest?”


	2. Prompt: Total Control

“Doctor Murphy?” Clare couldn’t contain her surprise, nearly dropping the tray of instruments when he seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Her colleague looked too pale in the hospital lighting and Clare’s stomach knotted at the idea that something was _very_ wrong. “Where have you been? Everyone’s been asking-”

“Dear Clare,” There was a sinister purr in his tone and her body grew stiff with terror that she couldn’t place. Everything in her was saying that she had to run, but Clare was frozen in place. His fingers grasped her jaw, stealing the breath from her lungs. “Your sister may be immune to me, but with you?” His sneer grew, grip tightening painfully. 

“With you, I have total control.”

Clare’s breathing grew shallow, limbs shaking, dropping the tray with a loud crash. “Please,” She whispered. “Please, you don’t have to do anything with me, I’m sure-”

“Silence.” The single word melted into her ads everything became softer around her. The fear quieted as he continued to speak in a low voice, never letting go of her for a moment. “You will come with me. There’s nothing wrong, but we will go quietly.”

“Of course,” Her words came in a hushed whisper. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Doctor Murphy.”


	3. Prompt: Defy

“Again!” From the floor, palms striking down on the mat in frustration, Laurel gave a snarling reply that could barely be construed as human. Adam, for his part, looked perfectly in place, not even a hair out of place or the sheen of sweat that stuck to Laurel appeared on him.

_Stupid vampires!_

“You’re not letting me get a hit in edgewise,” She groused, panting as she tried to catch her breath. The members of Unit Bravo were ridiculous in the way she could simply defy the laws of gravity and physics. One moment they’d be there, her fist thrown at them, only to land on nothing but thin air as they moved without even giving her a chance to catch up.

“And neither will any of the creatures we go up against!” Adam’s green eyes felt icier than usual, jaw clenched as he stood at the ready, all but waiting for her to come at him again. 

Which, of course, she was going to do with gusto.

With a guttural yell, Laurel surged forwards, trying to catch the minute movements that followed as she threw her fist out. She may have only been human, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t catch onto what was happening around her in these practice fights.

As much as he liked to deny it, Adam had a few tells. The way his expression shifted gave Laurel the barest hint of what was coming, surprising him as she moved away from a leg that would have knocked her off-balance any earlier than now; this time, she shifted, going the opposite direction, her own leg moving to sweep at him to knock him off his center of gravity.

It wasn’t _quite_ enough, but there was a flicker of a smirk on Adam’s face as he countered. Laurel couldn’t keep track of his movements, the world up-ended again as she hit the mat with a loud thump.

“Better,” Adam offered a hand to Laurel. “You’re improving.”

“I’m tougher than most,” Laurel couldn’t help the grin that spread across her lips, taking the hand. The contact was so brief, so casual, and her traitorous heart gave a flutter even as he pulled away. “Again?”

He raised one brow at her, almost curious or maybe impressed. “You keep throwing yourself into things without any caution and you’ll get hurt,” Adam warned in a voice that had some softness to it and an emotion that Laurel couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“Then I just have to get tougher.” Taking her stance again, Laurel couldn’t keep the challenge from her tone. “Unless you’re tired?” There was a derisive snort from the vampire, his own stance mirroring hers effortlessly.

“Give me your best shot, Detective.”


	4. Prompt: Shimmer

The sizzle and crack of fireworks launching into the air cut through the night as an explosion of shimmer and sparkling lights flashed to the delight of everyone watching. Seeing this place alive and well again, to know there was beauty in those who had been lost, gave Clare the fleeting feeling of hope that lingered in her chest.

For what had once been lost, could be found again, right?

“Look at that one!” From her right, Liam had an arm slung over her shoulder, his profile cutting a sharp silhouette as another firework flashed and exploded. “Was that in a shape?” The familiarity and warmth of him had once been so comforting and Clare would have, once upon a time, clung to him with laughter, trying to find shapes amongst the chaos of colors.

_Now_?

Now she simply stood at his side, there and not at the same time, nodding slowly when she realized she hadn’t replied. “Yeah, I think so?” Clare agreed with him softly, earning a squeeze of her shoulder from his hand. 

It was easy to write this off: she’d been working long hours, though not all of them had been at the hospital. Any free time she had, she made excuses to Liam, keeping him pushed farther and farther away from this dangerous world she and her sister belonged to.

_And where he belonged, too._

In the shadows to her left, she couldn’t help but shoot a glance to where she just knew he was standing. It was like a sixth sense she’d developed, following the sensation of his gaze upon her, blue eyes meeting the quiet grey of a storm by one of the tents. Her heart surged in her chest, though was it from wanting or nerves? She could barely keep track of her own heart these days, her mouth dry and palms sweating at the thought of having to make some sort of choice that set before her.

If it were easy, she might have picked one or the other. As it stood, easy was the farthest thing from this as it could be.

It was as if he knew what she was thinking, his face alight as he puffed away at a cigarette, the ashes casting him so briefly in the light before shadows came again. 

Another firework light the sky, but she could only stay staring at him.


	5. Cut: Laurel's Insomnia

Laurel didn’t sleep well that night. Tossing and turning in her double bed, she groaned when, each time she glanced to the clock, the time simply dripped by without meaning. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, seeing spots when she opened them again. Her mind didn’t know how to slow down as she replayed the previous afternoon over and over again in her head.

The evidence made no sense, but she wasn’t about to give up  _ that _ easily. 

Grumbling, Laurel reached out, pulling the chain on her light, blinking rapidly to adjust to the brightness that enveloped her room suddenly. The clock continued to blink by her bed, 2:56 AM taunting her with the lost hours to tossing and turning, knowing full-well that getting back to sleep was going to be a chore and a half.

Instead, she shrugged on her robe, happy to have another layer against the chill of the changing seasons in her apartment. She didn’t want to turn the heat on if she didn’t have to, happier to layer as much as she could to keep the shivering at bay. It wasn’t going to break her bank, turning it back on, but now it felt more like a point of pride than anything else.

Flipping the electric kettle on, Laurel paced in the little kitchen, letting her mind wander freely. She’d get sleep later, Laurel told herself, forcibly working to believe the lie as she methodically pulled a mug from her cupboard and then digging through another to find the herbal tea she kept for nights like this.

Insomnia wasn’t something new; Laurel had often fought through bouts of this as an adolescent onward. The world had turned from safe to scary overnight and her mind didn’t know how to let go of the news images or the dreadful thoughts that lurked in the murky depths of her mind. It was easier to wander, to pace and walk the floors of her home rather than stay lying in bed, stress eating away at any hope of her sleeping.

_ What do I know right now? _

The kettle began to bubble, the plastic on the side marked with fill lines steaming as everything began to heat. There was something off about the blood she had given Verda, that much was clear, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the idea their killer was doing full-blown transfusions.

“What’s your game?” Laurel wrinkled her nose, leaning her back against the counter. From here, she could see through the tiny eat-in kitchen and into the living room’s big, bay windows. That had been the selling feature of this apartment: it was priced decently so she didn’t feel like she was hemorrhaging money every month, but the view from here down into town felt almost serene sometimes. 

Like now, she thought, as moonlight lit up the sky, casting the town in an ethereal glow.

While she’d had bigger plans than this, Laurel didn’t mind living in Wayhaven if it meant she could stay here. It was a small apartment, barely one bedroom (her double bed was squeezed in tight) and dated from when it first went up in the late 70’s. But to Laurel, it had felt like home the first time she walked in. Sure, she had her mother’s house, the one she’d eagerly sold the moment she could, but that place had never felt quite right. Not since-

Unexpected emotion welled in her chest as she sucked in a harsh, deep breath, the silence broken finally as bubbling grew louder and the kettle clicked off.

Laurel had been too young to truly remember her father; from pictures and the limited stories her mother told her, he had been one of the best people she’d known. He had always looked happy in the few pictures Laurel had of them together, smiling brightly, arms wrapped around her in a loving embrace. Her favorite was from just before he passed: a candid shot in motion, her little fingers were blurry, caught mid-movement as the toddler Laurel pressed stickers to his face. The light from the living room caught them just right and, if she squinted hard enough, she swore she could see the love in his gaze down at her.

Laurel busied herself, going through the motions as she tossed a bag of chamomile into the empty mug, pouring the boiling water over it without a second thought.

It wasn’t just the blood that was odd; Tina had given reports from the neighbors near the alley and, while it felt far-fetched, there were claims that there had been odd chanting and suspicion of a cult had come up in the notes.

But what was truly out of the realm of possibility? Laurel watched steam rising from her cup, letting the water turn from clear to a golden as the tea steeped. Before now, she would have assumed any sort of sinister crime could be kept far out of reach. Their town was too small for anything awful to happen.

Or at least, it  _ had _ been.

“There’s gotta be something logical here!” Laurel hissed, wincing as she pulled the bag from water, the tips of her fingers protesting at the sudden heat. She dropped it onto the counter, grumbling and knowing she’d deal with that mess in the morning. 

Gingerly holding onto the mug at the handle, Laurel paused, slipping into her bedroom to pull her phone off the charger, shuffling back to the living room with it in hand. The recliner was as good a spot as any. Despite having seen better days, Laurel didn’t know how to get rid of it, far more sentimental towards this inanimate object than most things in her home. She curled a leg beneath her, setting her tea on the side table nearest her and opened her phone up.

Facebook wasn’t where she meant to head, but her thumb was already on the app before she could stop herself. Doomscrolling wasn’t going to do her any good, especially when her version of that was to go through all her old friends from college, spotting new images and updates on how well their lives were going.

Hard not to compare her own life, finger hovering over the like button of another friend who had moved into a new house far away from where Laurel was right now. 

Jealousy reared its ugly head into her life more times than not as Laurel sighs, scrolling past the image before she could do anything about it.  _ Stuck _ was the word that came to mind, as though she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Laurel reached sideways, taking a cautious sip of tea before sliding into the messaging app. There were times when she could have done any number of things, taken any number of paths; but, of course, she had been sidetracked by...what? 

_ CLARE BISHOP wants to connect _ .

Laurel almost dropped her phone as the bubble appeared at the top of her screen. Guilt followed as she set her tea down, phone held tightly in both hands as she stared at the message. The little green dot next to her sister (half-sister, she grumbled internally) made her pause; what in the world was Clare still doing awake? 

For one, brief moment, Laurel considered pretending she hadn’t seen it. The pair of them hadn’t connected before now, mostly because Laurel had dodged and deflected any time Clare brought it up. It was a surface-level step, nothing binding, and yet Laurel couldn’t seem to justify actually inviting Clare into this digital space.

But her fingers moved of their own accord, hitting  _ ACCEPT _ before she could stop herself.

Curiosity wasn’t so easily sated, though, as she clicked into Clare’s profile, scrolling through the information before her. Pictures of Clare and Liam, always smiling, always happy; friends surrounding Clare at some sort of celebration; engagement photos from three years ago that Laurel had glanced through in passing when she’d visited. A whole life, and yet Clare had uprooted from everyone.

There was no stopping her fingers as she opened up a chat, typing away quickly.

_ Why did you come here? Why did Mom tell you and not me? You shouldn’t be here, you don’t belong here, I was perfectly fine before- _

Fuck it, she was too tired to try and form thoughts right now. She quickly hit the back button, watching the jumble of words disappear before she could do anything too stupid. Setting her phone down, the screen facedown on the table, Laurel wrapped both hands around the slightly cooler mug, curling up completely in the chair.

Behind her, the clock continued to tick, the night stretching on around her.


	6. Prompt: Orpheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt using my top 100 for 2020 ft the song Orpheus by Sara Barielles

Laurel knew the taste of heartbreak; for all her hard edges and blunt words, she knew there was something much softer at the center of it all. Bobby had gotten to it once, long ago, and now someone else was creeping closer to those secret walls and hidden feelings that she had tucked away so carefully.

No, Laurel knew heartbreak, and it was the strongest emotion rolling off Clare.

“I don’t understand it,” Clare’s voice was a thick whisper, red-rimmed eyes welling up with tears again as she stared at Laurel with disbelief. “How can any of this be real?” In that moment, she looked so small and Laurel was reminded that she wasn’t even 30 yet. 

“It’s a hard pill to swallow,” Laurel said slowly, her own tone so much softer than usual as she sat on the couch where Clare had coiled. “But I promise, it’s not as scary as it seems.”

“Not as scary?!” Clare’s laugh was almost hysterical, shaking her head as she wiped away tears from her cheeks roughly with the sleeves of her sweater. “I was kidnapped by a bloody vampire, you nearly died, and you’re saying that things aren’t as scary as they seem?” 

Laurel squeezed her eyes shut, wincing as she reached for the scarring on her arm. I almost died.

“Clare,” Opening her eyes again, swallowing against an unexpected lump in her throat, Laurel reached out, her fingers gently clasping her sister’s hand in her own. “I promise, I know it’s scary, but I’ll be here with you.” Then, far softer than before, “We’re family.” No added words, not extra phrasing to emphasize just how far apart they were, just family. It would still take a while until she could say anything more, but for now, that felt almost like enough.

There was a flurry of motion as Clare dropped Laurel’s hand-

-and wrapped her arms around Laurel’s neck tightly. Fiercely.

“You’re my sister,” Clare breathed into Laurel’s shoulder, the damp from her cheeks penetrating the cotton of Laurel’s t-shirt. “I don’t want to lose you to all of this.”

Hesitation bubbled to the surface as Laurel paused, uncertain if she even could hug Clare back. But, slowly, her arms wrapped around Clare in turn, the pair silent for a long few moments. “You won’t lose me,” Laurel promised quietly. “I promise, I’ll always come back.”

She just had to hope she could keep that promise.


	7. Prompt: Things you said through a closed door

“Detective-”

“No!” Laurel _knew_ she was acting childish, but at the moment it didn’t seem to matter as she stormed across the warehouse. If she could have made more of a fuss, she would have done so, wishing that her footsteps would reverberate more against the solid floors. Anger wasn’t an emotion she ever knew how to divorce herself from, letting it sweep her up as she moved with purpose towards her room.

“Laurel, _please_ ,” Adam was a few steps behind her; he could have moved faster, used whatever strengths he had as a supernatural being to force her back to talk with him. Thank god he didn’t, considering Laurel was in the mood to hit someone (more importantly, to hit him).

“Too bad, Adam.” Laurel reached her room, yanking the door open, and, with as much force as she could muster, slammed it right in his perfectly chiseled face. The door rattled on its hinges as, panting, Laurel turned, back pressed against the wood in the silence that followed.

“I was trying to keep you safe,” Adam’s words were muffled, a gentle creak against the wood the only indication that he’d perhaps placed his hands against it, never reaching to try to open it up. 

“I can take care of myself, Adam,” Laurel replied tersely. “You have to trust me to know how to do that, or how can we even _begin_ to work as a team?” It was hard enough to work together these days as Laurel tried dodging both her feelings and whatever Adam had going on in his head, never mind this bullshit. “I’m not made of glass. I can take a few hits.”

There was muffled cursing in a language she didn’t recognize. “I trust you, Laurel.” Adam’s tone was softer than before and Laurel’s heart fluttered traitorously in her ribcage. “But I also don’t want to see you hurt.” They’d lived through that before, memories of Murphy’s last stand coming to her mind unbidden. 

“You have to reconcile those, then,” Laurel replied stiffly, pushing away from the door. “I won’t be put aside for safety.” 


	8. Prompt: Things you said through your teeth

There was too much blood. It surrounded his senses, overwhelming him as Mason surged towards it rather than away. Clare’s fingers were stained red, color draining from her face as she slid down the wall, gasping from shock and pain.

“Stay with me,” Mason growled through gritted teeth, ripping into her scrubs as he pressed hard against the bite Murphy had inflicted on her.

“I-” Clare was shaking, the tremble from cold lost under the weight of pain that etched itself across her features, blue eyes wide with an understanding they had all been trying to keep her from truly knowing. “I don’t understand. How-” Hysteria colored her tone as a crash echoed somewhere behind him.

Mason pressed harder against the open wound, lips pressed in a thin line. What more could he say right now? “Later,” He murmured, brow furrowed as the sickly sweet scent wrapped around his head. They’d only caught a moment of Murphy’s grandstanding at the end, the revelation that Clare had fae-blood shocking everyone gathered there. It made sense, Mason thought, but they could unpack all of that later.

Her eyes squeezed shut, and Mason felt his stomach drop. “Clare!” 

It was there, a long-lost emotion he’d never quite remembered from _before_ , surfacing with alarming precision as the seconds seemed to stretch into hours: fear. And, more importantly, just what he would give to keep all of these feelings at bay. He’d let them sit for too long, simmering and stewing, making room within him despite trying to ignore and avoid it with a passion. Foolish, stupid, idiotic Mason, letting something so soft get past the shell he’d spent a century developing; to let one, fragile human (fae) demand anything from his heart-

There was a gasping breath as Mason snapped back to attention. Water dripped from his dark hair, his eyes wide as the display of what he could only resolve to be magic. “Stay awake, Clare,” Mason couldn’t keep emotion from his voice, glad to only have her ears hearing this. One of her hands, smaller than he’d remembered, gripped his wrist that kept her bleeding at bay. 


	9. Prompt: Things you said while we were driving

“You shouldn’t drive so fast.” Adam’s entire body tenses up as Laurel takes another curve too fast for his liking, keenly aware of the smirk on her face without even glancing over to witness it firsthand. He knows her better now, understand her habits, and this, it turns out, is classic Laurel.

“I know what I’m doing,” She replies tartly; she’s apparently gifted with a lead foot, the kind that susses out speed limits rather than just following them, moving down country roads like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He has to banish the thought of her skidding off one of these curves, especially when it’s dark and raining and-

“Don’t brood. Adam, it’s too nice out for you to be so glum.” Laurel may be many things, but playfulness still surprises him. Her profile in the summer sunlight is almost overwhelming, her dark blonde hair transforming to liquid gold, the depths of her dark brown eyes illuminated in ways that make his heart stammer in his chest.

It’s far too late to pull away as much now, not when he’s in too deep, to begin with.

“I’m not brooding,” He replies, unable to hide the little smile that plays on his lips in turn.

“Good.” Laurel laughs, high and clear as she ramps up her speed down the next road, concentration alight on her features as she shifts gears. “I’d rather have you neutral when we reach the crime scene  _ in record time _ .”

“God save us all,” Adam murmurs, gripping the handle by the door a little too tight. Later, he’ll admit, only to Laurel, that he did, indeed, bend it ever so slightly.


End file.
